It plays out through the etchings of my soul as written words so un worthy to the emotion it expresses so beautifully. My hand is merely the controlling vessel of its sweet release. I can never write a poem so lovely as my soul speaks, I hold much gratitude that I am allowed to feel what it has to say.
You are so correct. For in the moment of the poem it seems like your hand is gliding across the paper faster then words. For you have been caught up in the moment of that feeling.
poppyredsydney, New South Wales AustraliaFeb 15, 2012
Simply Lovely
RedexNorthumberland, England UKFeb 16, 2012
They say eyes are the window to the soul, poetry is a close second. I enjoyed reading this one.
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